


rude boy

by wildcard_47



Category: The Terror (TV 2018), The Terror - Dan Simmons
Genre: Daptain Strikes Again, Dirty Jobs & Dirty Mouths, Dry Humping, Everyone Is Flexible and the Canonical ED Doesn't Matter, Human Disasters and the Handsome Boys Who Love Them, It's Not Gay When It's In A Threeway, M/M, Multi, Mutual Pining, Oral Sex, Thank You Sir May I Have Another, This Is My Boyfriend's Boyfriend, uh oh spaghettios
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2019-03-15
Updated: 2019-03-15
Packaged: 2019-11-18 06:43:02
Rating: Mature
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 4
Words: 13,345
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/18115394
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/wildcard_47/pseuds/wildcard_47
Summary: Kink meme fill! One night onTerror, Thomas forgets the most basic duty of all. In retrospect, the signs really should have been obvious.





	1. Chapter 1

**Author's Note:**

  * For [JollyRogue](https://archiveofourown.org/users/JollyRogue/gifts).



Although a Captain’s steward guarded innumerable secrets, ranging from the frankly boring to the critical, Thomas Jopson could usually tell when changes loomed on the horizon – even if his Captain did not address them head-on.

For instance: on the night of Sir John’s untimely death, Captain Crozier had brushed off Jopson’s usual comforts – kind words, attentive touches, and hot tea dosed with just enough whiskey to keep the mind lucid – in favor of visiting  _ Erebus.  _ The moment he had risen from his seat in the Great Cabin instead of sinking into quiet melancholy, and had asked for his slops, Jopson knew something unusual was about to occur. 

This instinct was proved right; Captain did not return to _Terror_ that night. And in the morning, although the Irishman appeared tired and sad as Jopson helped him into full dress uniform, the acquaintance between Captain Crozier and _Erebus’s_ new Captain Fitzjames seemed much improved, if not exactly warm.

But somewhere along the way, likely when Captain Crozier needed constant care, Jopson had lost sight of his professional detachment while keeping this skill well-honed. Even as his mind registered and automatically absorbed new details every day, he did not stop to consider whether he  _ should  _ know so much about the Captain’s personal life, or whether all these changes denoted further disturbances going forward.

If Captain’s bedsheets were soaked through with sweat and needed changing more often, that was new, but not exactly a surprise. He had run hot as Old Nick in the grip of the shakes, even after he could hold down food and water again. 

And if spots of dried white dotted the hem of Captain’s nightshirts on a more frequent basis, it simply meant he was a man like all the rest of them, with a man’s urges and healthy appetites. Now that he was free of the whiskey, his body likely wanted for a great many things, and demanded not to be pent-up any further.

Even if raw, muffled cries sometimes filtered through the Captain’s berth to the Great Cabin in the dead of night, that too was understandable. Perhaps he was having a nightmare, or lamenting over private sorrows in the safety of his bunk. They had lost so many men already. Considering his melancholy temperament, as well as the plain fact that he was responsible for every person in this company, Thomas always let him be during these periods.

When the morning came, he said nothing to indicate that the Captain’s troubles were known, simply helped ease the man’s mind in the best way he knew how. After all, Thomas had heard and seen much worse.

In retrospect, the signs really should have been obvious.

 

##

 

Late on an otherwise unremarkable Saturday, just after the end of the second dog watch, Jopson collected the freshly-dried laundry, as was his usual custom. He folded shirts and sheets and trousers into tidy squares in the quiet of the empty wardroom, and carried a large stack of these back to the Great Cabin, so he could change the Captain’s bed and put clean clothes in the bureau before the man himself retired, and his duties were concluded. 

Captain Crozier had gone to  _ Erebus  _ so often lately that Jopson did not pause to wonder whether he should knock on the door, when he saw the outer cabin was empty. Nor did he give much thought to the low creaking noise issuing from inside the berth – not until he had pulled the door fully open, and was confronted by an astonishing sight.

Atop the Captain’s bunk, two strong masculine bodies moved in tandem.

Naked, flushed, and damp with sweat, a panting Captain Fitzjames balanced on his knees, bouncing up and down. Facing the doorway, eyes closed in pure delight, he tugged at a red sizeable member with a desperate fist, while two strong, freckled hands gripped his pale hips, urging him on.

And lying under Fitzjames – 

“Faster,” growled a familiar brogue. 

Pale muscled legs and a round backside flexed with effort as Captain Crozier thrust up hard.

As the full truth registered, Jopson dropped the laundry straight into the floor, and stumbled backwards into the doorframe, hands flying to clutch at the wood. 

“Oh, Lord! I’m sorry!”

_ “Thomas?!” _

With a horrified yelp, Captain Crozier opened his eyes, and attempted to shove Fitzjames from his lap. Given their positions, he only succeeded in pulling the man closer as they listed left towards the wall; wide-eyed with shock, Fitzjames cried out.

_ “Francis, wait, I – ” _

Jopson watched, slack-jawed, as the  _ Erebus  _ Captain stiffened in place, his eyes rolled back into his head, and he struck the bed with one palm. He gripped the linens till his knuckles blanched, and seconds later he spilled across them with the smallest whining noises, like a small puppy left out in the cold.

No one moved or spoke till this spasm of ecstasy had passed – around the time Jopson’s mind finally caught up to his eyes.

_ Fitzjames just finished. With Captain Crozier inside him. _

“I’m sorry,” Jopson whispered miserably, unable to meet anyone’s eyes.

_ “Out!” _ snapped Crozier.

“Yes, sir. Christ, sir. I – I’m so very sorry.”

Thomas fled the room with a squeak of fear, slamming both the berth door and the Great Cabin door closed behind him. 

As he rushed into the wardroom, which was the only place on this ship where he might not be spotted and questioned immediately, he tried to calm his racing heart and his treacherous body. 

_ Damn it, damn it, damn it! _

He was criminally stupid for not performing the most basic task of all – checking whether his Captain was occupied or not – and now he was going to be punished because he had trespassed on an impossibly intimate moment. He had violated two Captains beyond measure. Technically seen them committing a sin, not that it mattered.

Worst of all, he had  _ angered Captain Crozier,  _ a remarkable and intelligent man whose admiration he had craved since the day they first met.

He would probably be disrated. Stripped of his duties. Sentenced to abject humiliation.

Pondering all the ways in which two furious Captains could make his life a living hell – and hating himself more and more with every passing second – Thomas spent perhaps ten or fifteen minutes alone in the wardroom, his head in his hands, before he heard footsteps nearby.

“Why in god’s name are you under the table?”

Sighing glumly, Jopson glanced up to see Edward Little peering down around the table’s edge with a very concerned expression. Although he wasn’t wearing his slops, he had ice in his beard and hair and his face was windburned. Looked as if he’d just come in from the cold.

“Because I’m an idiot.”

Edward didn’t seem to know what to make of this response. “Did you mark the lining of Crozier’s jacket again?”

For once in his life, Thomas wanted to toss off the sort of poorly-thought retort that came easy to all his comrades.  _ No, you ass, I saw Captain Fitzjames riding our Captain like a wild stallion, and then I saw him come, and now I’m in heaps of trouble. _

“Yes,” he mumbled instead, and averted his eyes to the floor.

“Well, I – I really don’t think that merits your being underneath the – oh. Evening, sir.”

Glancing to his right, Jopson saw a pair of well-blacked boots walk into view, and automatically knew which officer had entered the room. Captain Crozier’s boots were always shined to perfection, but they were not made of full-grain leather with perfectly even stitching, nor did they have buckles of real gold or handsome gilded initials impressed into the sides. Only one person on this voyage owned bespoke boots like that.

“What’s all this, Little?” Fitzjames asked first, as glibly as if he had just arrived on board.

Edward just shook his head. “Apparently Thomas has just marked one of Crozier’s jackets with the iron. Please don’t put him down for duty owing – he means no disrespect by hiding from his work. Just takes his tasks very seriously is all.”

Jopson winced to hear this idiot story repeated again. Now he’d not only be seen as hysterical to the rest of the wardroom, but clumsy and ill-prepared. The entire ship was going to laugh at him. Isn’t it funny how Jopson gets so upset over one scorch mark? Isn’t it funny that Captain Crozier needs a body to iron his jackets and wipe his arse and fetch and carry for him?

Good Captains need more than the lot of you, he wanted to snarl to these imaginary critics. Certainly more than some idiot mate with nothing but a hammock and a ration of grog to his name. And if anyone here was the half the sailor Crozier was, they’d already know that.

Not to mention, he didn’t have to wipe anyone’s anything now that Captain had dried out.

“Well, Jopson, why don’t you come with me for a moment. I need your assistance in the Great Cabin, if you please.”

“Yes, sir. All right,” Jopson said miserably, and crawled out from beneath the table.

Dusting himself off, he straightened his shoulders, crossed in front of Captain Fitzjames, as indicated, and they walked back to the Great Cabin.

 

##

 

Inside, Captain Crozier sat at the captain’s table, dressed in full uniform, staring at the freshly-stoked brazier. To untrained eyes, nothing looked amiss.

Of course, Jopson could tell that his shirt had been buttoned wrong beneath the waistcoat, and his collar was upturned at the neck, and the knot in his tie was crooked. It would not have passed muster, if he’d been under inspection by another Captain. But he shouldn’t say such things at the present moment, if he wanted to keep his position.

“Well,” said Fitzjames as he shut the door behind them. “Here we are, then.”

Captain Crozier let out a sigh, and tapped two fingers against the table’s surface before finally glancing up into Jopson’s face.

Jopson could have fainted dead away under the piercing scrutiny of those brilliant blue eyes. Oh, he looked so upset – and he wasn’t saying a word. When he was angry and quiet, circumstances were very bad indeed.

“Captain, I really am sorry. Truly, it wasn’t – I thought you were on  _ Erebus  _ again, and so I only meant to – ”

Crozier held up a hand, indicating that he did not want to hear long-winded explanations. Jopson bit his lip to keep from babbling.

“Thomas,” the Captain finally rasped, rubbing at his eyes with one hand. He would not meet Jopson’s gaze directly, and his face was still blotched a tomato-red. “In this instance, you are not duty-bound to explain yourself.”

“But I ought to,” Jopson blurted out. “Sir, I did something wrong. I saw you – ”

“According to Lieutenant Little, all you have done is marked your Captain’s greatcoat,” interjected Fitzjames, as he came to stand about a meter’s width from Captain Crozier’s chair. The two Captains were careful not to look at each other as he did this. “That is not a premeditated offense laid out in the Articles of War – merely an accident.”

“Well, yes, that’s why I told Edward I was hiding in the wardroom, but I didn’t mean – ”

“Accidents happen,” Fitzjames repeated, softer this time. “Christ. You see what I’m saying, don’t you?”

“I do understand, sir,” Jopson confirmed, although hearing the official lie didn’t ease his worries. “And I am not trying to put you at unease. But as a – please rest assured I was only going about my duties. My intention was never to – I wouldn’t have  _ ever _ – ”

“I know that, lad.” Crozier’s rugged face had softened, very slightly, although he was still very pink. “You aren’t a per – er. I mean, obviously, you’d not trespass on – well – ”

To save them all from potential embarrassment, Jopson blurted out the thought that pressed most insistently at his mind.

“Sir, what’s to be my punishment?”

Crozier did a double-take. Fitzjames’s frown merely deepened.

“I’m sorry to interrupt, Captain. I didn’t mean to speak over you.” He had meant to stave off awkwardness, of course, although up to this point, he had never interrupted the Captain anywhere they could have been overheard by a third party. “But if I am to be – disrated, or stripped of any duties, I would prefer to know now, right up front.”

“Jopson, why on earth should we disrate you?” asked Fitzjames.

_ As if it were not obvious!  _

“Because I intruded on private… things.”

“Yes, and it was  _ an accident. _ ” Fitzjames said this as loudly as if he were speaking another language entirely, and had not yet been understood by the room. With a scoff, he glanced over at Crozier. “Have I been saying that correctly? Does the word have an entirely different meaning at this latitude?”

“James.”

“I know what an accident is!” snapped Jopson, but quickly took control of his tone. “Sorry. Only – this is my life, sir. My work is a reflection on my character. My references here will determine my next posting. And I don’t  _ want _ to have to lie about being clumsy, or forgetful, in order to explain away – ”

“For Christ’s sake, lad, what Captain Fitzjames is saying is that there will be neither questions nor explanations if you do not give cause for them. You realise  _ you _ have something over on  _ us _ .” Crozier said this as flatly as if he were explaining magnetic principles to a large and very ignorant audience. “In the Admiralty’s eyes, you’ve committed no wrongs, and have in fact witnessed a far more grievous offense. They’ll not care whether a whole league of stewards set fire to my dress blues by comparison.”

“Francis,” said Fitzjames, very tightly.

“Well, it’s true! And Thomas knows the Articles like the back of his hand. He’s a smart lad.”

“But sir, I would never betray your confidence,” protested Jopson, although his stomach soared at the high compliment.  _ Captain thinks I’m smart.  _ “It isn’t honorable for a steward in my place to gossip. And you – you are both under so much stress already. I’d just be taking advantage of a respectable man in a precarious position.”

Considering how the Admiralty still ignored Crozier – who was one of the most knowledgeable Arctic explorers in the whole Navy, yet didn’t even have a knighthood or a medal to show for it – Jopson wasn’t too keen on hearing their opinions on what was proper and appropriate.

Still pink in the face with embarrassment, Captain Crozier gave Captain Fitzjames the sort of look he used to give Jopson during Sir John’s long-winded dinners – a silent plea for help.

Nodding, Fitzjames stepped forward.

Although Jopson was not used to being on the receiving end of such scrutiny from the  _ Erebus  _ Captain, he could see why others thought the man impressive. Fitzjames had a striking bearing in his uniform – and of course he truly didn’t have a hair out of place. He was a beautiful man by nature, but standing in front of him now....well.  Jopson tried not to recall how utterly captivating Fitzjames had looked in the throes of passion.

“Given that we seem to be repeating ourselves, let me cut to the point. Jopson, do you agree that you have seen nothing, and therefore would have nothing to tell  _ even if, at some future date, you should be asked further questions on the subject? _ ”

“Yes,” confirmed Jopson in relief. “Even if I had seen something – which I didn’t – only thing that happened was an accident.”

“Precisely. Excellent. And what should you like in return?”

Why was that important? “What do you mean, sir?”

Fitzjames raised bewildered eyebrows. “ _ Quid pro quo. _ Or more accurately,  _ do et des,  _ if we take the modern meaning to its literal translation – ” 

Crozier, from the corner: “For god’s sake, James.”

“I give,” huffed the  _ Erebus  _ Captain over this protest, “so that you may give, and yes,  _ Francis,  _ I hear you, now hush.”

Jopson did not let even a muscle twitch in his face, although it was the first time he had heard the two Captains speak to each other as men and not as officers. 

Well. Second time.

“Semantics aside,” Fitzjames steepled his hands together, and began to pace slightly, “I am saying we shall offer you something in return for your discretion, so this business is not damnably lopsided. You have our ear. What are your terms?”

“Er – no, sir, I don’t have any terms,” stammered Jopson. “I’ll just – do it.”

“But you cannot possibly be expected to keep silent for nothing,” insisted the  _ Erebus  _ Captain after a small pause.

“Well, I’ve given my word.” Jopson cast a confused look at Crozier. “Isn’t that enough?”

“Yes,” said Crozier at once, although this got him a fierce glare from Fitzjames.

“No. Good Christ.” Captain Fitzjames put a hand to his brow, looking for all the world like Crozier when something very stupid was said in the wardroom. “Come now, Jopson. We are all men here. This is the way the world works. I daresay every gentleman in London has paid off at least one man in his employ.”

“They do not employ Thomas Jopsons,” snapped Crozier. “You don’t know him, James.”

“I – Francis, even if I knew his character in the manner you do, and had every confidence in his sterling reputation, it is simply not the done thing! Even knighted lords recognize the importance of a reward in this manner! You would not possibly believe some of the – ” A pause; Fitzjames stopped talking and sighed again, very deeply. “My apologies. No personal offense is meant, Jopson. Given the circumstances, you see my general concern.”

“Well, I wish you’d see mine, sir.” Jopson answered after a moment. “Because I’ve never been a gossip, even when I have things to talk about, and I’ve never ever told a secret out of turn. I keep my word and I always have. Even in school. Mister Blyton would ask if we had enough food at home and I’d say yes, because my brothers and I got days-old bread and buttermilk from the baker’s boy. He’d ask if we had good clothes and we did, because I sewed them all by hand myself. From flour sacks and scrap fabrics. And until the day I left, he thought my mother only had rheumatism, because that’s all I’d told him. I never – ”

Tears pricked at his eyes, and he gasped in alarm, fear quickening his words.

“Erm. And actually I’m very busy and have to go now so may I be dismissed please?”

“You may,” said Captain Crozier at once. Although he still appeared frustrated, there was such warmth in his voice now, the sort of understanding Jopson had not heard in several weeks. “And I’ll not expect you back until the morning. Understood?”

“Thank you, sir,” whispered Jopson, and darted for the door.

As he left, shutting the door behind him, he could hear Crozier’s growl of annoyance. “There was no need for harshness, you idiot.”

“For god’s sake, Francis, I didn’t mean to make him – ”

Still brimming with tears, and hopelessly hurt for reasons he couldn’t speak aloud, Jopson made a dash for the storeroom before everyone else could see him cry.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> YES, this title comes from a Rihanna song, and yes, it's toit as hell. As far as the rest, I hope it's all right!


	2. Chapter 2

As if being spotted mid-coitus and then witnessed in the heat of climax by a subordinate was not unfortunate enough, now James Fitzjames was forced to endure the worst possible insult of all: protracted awkwardness from the two other parties involved.

Francis had not come to him since the night they had been interrupted, and although the Irishman became more snappish and visibly frustrated with each passing day, he would hear nothing on the subject of relieving such tensions, even alone in  _ Erebus’s  _ Great Cabin _. _

Francis’s loyal steward, meanwhile, had got almost apoplectic with fear every time Fitzjames so much as glanced in Jopson’s direction – to the point where James sometimes had to reach for the handle of his teacup to steady it as it was refilled, lest the poor boy knock the entire tea service into the floor. Or worse: onto his greatcoat.

Granted, taking one’s teacup in hand as opposed to having someone smoothly dash it away for you was not necessarily classified as a  _ problem,  _ merely an inconvenience.

But these trifling inconveniences would soon undercut all future actions, if they were not careful – and it was all directly related to the fact that Jopson had taken no reward in exchange for his silence. James was sure of it. 

If Jopson had been guaranteed further patronage, or perhaps a promotion, or even privileges outside of their usual roles here, that would have been a balm to the sting of disappointment. As it was, he had nothing of value to soothe his nerves or comfort his anxieties about keeping such a secret from the rest of the company. 

And since the boy clearly did not have the temperament for politicking among the wardroom, nor the ability to truly make demands on Francis, James knew what he would have to do in order to ensure Jopson was compensated for his discretion. He would have to initiate the conversation between all three of them.

He finally broached the topic late one night on  _ Terror,  _ when the rest of the wardroom had retired. Jopson was in the midst of finishing his chores in the Great Cabin. As had become his custom in the late hours, Francis was elbow-deep in terrain maps, oblivious to the world, while James had been perusing a rather boring book under the auspices of entertaining himself.  In reality, he was awaiting the ideal moment to begin such a conversation.

After several minutes of catching several surreptitious glances from the  _ Terror  _ steward, James finally sat up, drained the last of his coffee, and spoke.

“Jopson, are you certain there’s nothing we could do for you? About this – prior matter between us?”

Head snapping up from his papers, Francis scowled at James as if he’d just attempted to strip naked and dance a reel along the table. 

Jopson, meanwhile, was agape – frozen mid-motion with the polishing rag in one hand.

James waved away their surprise with a laconic hand. “Entire situation has put you in a deuced awkward spot, obviously.”

“Don’t bloody pester the lad,” Francis complained. “What are you doing?”

“And although you are obviously bearing up well” – he wasn’t – “I believe this matter deserves further consideration. Not because we doubt your word... ”

“Stop acting as if you speak for both of us, you absolute idiot! Jopson, I have every confidence in you, obviously.”

“...but because,” James continued wearily, “I should like to ensure you are cared for.”

That shut Francis up at last.

Jopson just blinked at him. “What’s that, sir?”

James frowned at him. “I should think my intention is obvious.”

“Well, it bloody well isn’t,” snapped Crozier at once, then seemed to wrench his mouth closed only by an act of God once James turned to him with a boggled expression. “You – never mind. What are you talking about?”

Sighing, James shut and then opened his eyes. Francis was inscrutable on the best of days, but even more so when he was in a strop. Perhaps speaking directly would help all three of them overcome these reservations. 

“Right. If everyone is amenable, I propose we dispense with formalities for a brief moment.”

“Why the hell not?” growled Crozier in clear annoyance as he pushed his papers aside. “What else have any of us to do tonight besides – ”

“Do you or do you not agree to such terms, Francis?”

“Fine. Chuck the bloody formalities.”

Fitzjames looked directly at Jopson, now. “Do you also agree?”

After a moment, Jopson wet his lips, put down the polishing rag. “I do.”

“Then we are in accord,” said Fitzjames, and gestured to the table. “You may sit, if you like. I intend to remain seated.”

“Yes, s – I mean. I’ll sit. Thank you.”

Carefully, Jopson took a seat, and brushed his fringe from his face.

“Well, then.” Reclining in his chair, James thought about what he wanted to say, considered the best way to phrase it. “As I said, I should like to ensure you are cared for in this manner. It – although you esteem Francis, and have kept this secret freely, I feel you ought to have something nice in return for your efforts. Think of it as honoring the Golden Rule.”

“Golden Rule doesn’t mention collecting rewards for actions,” Jopson ventured as he shifted in his chair. “Only treating others in kind.”

Unbidden, a mischievous smile grew across Francis’s face.

James tapped the table with two fingers. He could not help smiling, either. “Well. It has been a long time since I recited a Sunday-school paraphrase, so I do not doubt that is correct. But I have concerns which perhaps supercede the logic of simple parables, and I would voice them to you now, if that’s all right.”

“What do you mean, concerns?” Jopson’s brow furrowed in confusion.

Pausing for a moment, James decided to change tactics. Perhaps if Jopson felt understood and among friends, he might open up at last.

“More like questions, in truth. Just to find out how we can all help each other in this matter. Er. Understandably, these will be rather impertinent. If you like, we can pretend to be other people entirely whilst we address such topics.”

“Jesus Christ,” groaned Francis with a roll of his eyes.

James waved away his objection as if shooing off a pesky fly. “If you do not feel comfortable giving answers to myself, given our roles here, then perhaps you will be more at ease with Master Jim of the armory. Or midshipman Jamie. Or ship’s boy – ”

“What – kinds of things do you want to know?”

“Personal ones,” said James. He did not miss the way Jopson gulped. “First: may I call you by your Christian name?”

“Er – yes.”

“Excellent. You may also use mine while we three are alone in this room. Or the options I mentioned earlier. Now, Thomas. How long have you been a steward?”

“Oh. Er. Since my first voyage in ‘39, s – see. It, ah, I wasn’t the lead steward then, not at first. But I ended up taking over most of the duties.”

“My old steward fell ill,” added Francis in the corner. “Ague.”

“Ah ha. And that is how you made your skills known, obviously.”

“Course.” Francis actually chuckled. “Put the rest of them to shame, didn’t he?”

James was not looking for mere flattery, although it was generous of Francis to offer high praise without prompting.

The high flush in Jopson’s cheek intensified as he caught Francis’s eyes. “Well. Don’t know how good I was back then. You had to instruct me in a lot of the duties. Plus,” he turned back to James, “it took time, getting to know one another. Work together well. That sort of thing.”

“Quite.”

“And then I suppose Cap – sorry. Well, once we got back, I, ah, spent time with my family afterward. My mother was… she was unwell, when I left. And worse when I got back. So I, ah, took some time off, cared for my brothers.”

He trailed off, and glanced briefly at Francis, who nodded his head once, either in encouragement or understanding.

“Is it all right if I move ahead a bit?” Jopson asked when he looked back at James.

“Course.”

“Thank you.” 

Both Francis and Jopson relaxed at once; James did not know precisely what event Thomas was alluding to, but clearly it had been some sort of trying time. Perhaps his mother had been at the drink, even. Or had been so ill she was confined to her bed. They had obviously spoken honestly of this matter before, whatever the truth was. And it did not seem to inform the life he had created here. 

That was enough for James.

“I suppose you’ve been taking care of others your whole life, haven’t you?”

Thomas pursed his mouth in thought as he considered this. “No one’s ever put it that way, but I suppose you’re right. That’s – I’ve always liked service, actually. I mean, some men get a bit squirrelly over the idea. When you tell them you’re in the Navy but you don’t take a watch, or carry a pistol. But I’ve – it makes me proud, doesn’t it? Being here, able to serve.”

“Naturally. Did you aspire to sailing, as a boy?”

“Oh, no, s – ah. Not that I recall. My priority was always family. Er. Don’t think I ever imagined what would come next, apart from making a living.”

“Well, you’ve done very well for yourself, Thomas.” Francis spoke up, now; that soft smile tugged at the corner of his mouth again. “And you should be proud.”

“Do you really think so?”

Jopson looked so thrilled to hear more compliments fall from Francis’s lips. He practically had stars in his eyes.

“Count on it,” said Francis. “Truly, I don’t know what I’d do without you here, right by my side.” He thumped the table lightly with his fingers. “You’ve always known that.”

“I haven’t,” Jopson shook his head no. “S – not to contradict you, but it – sometimes I’d – give anything in the world to know that I please you. To hear you say it.”

A scarlet flush bloomed across Francis’s face. “Thomas.”

“No, honestly, I – Francis, I  _ want _ to please you. That’s all I – ”

“Lad, you – you’ve got to stop saying that. Well-meant as you are, the phrasing carries an unintended meaning.”

Francis’s face had gone from sanguine to beet red. That blush had even spread to tips of his ears. James watched, silently fascinated; it was the sort of fierce reaction he typically only showcased  _ in medias res. _

“What meaning?” asked Jopson in a low voice.

Oh, Lord bless him. Did the boy truly not see the obvious double entendre?

“That I might – take advantage of you. You know. In a, ah. Personal manner?”

“Bodily,” interjected James.

Francis did not deny this, although he had begun to stutter through the rest of his words. “Many officers have – influenced young stewards and ship’s boys as such, in past.”

“But I would even do  _ that _ freely,” whispered Jopson after a long moment. “If it would bring you happiness. I would – want to – serve you that way, if you ever wanted to – to look at me. I mean, I know you don’t think of me in that sense, and that’s all right, but you know I… well, sometimes it’s... ”

By this point, Francis was open-mouthed, and quite unable to speak.

Flushing, Jopson turned to James, and set his jaw in a determined way, as if he needed to clarify this point before they could move ahead. “James, you know the Captain is handsome.”

“Of course,” said James with a shrug, as if this were beyond obvious. “Everyone sees that.”

“Yes.” Jopson nodded his head vigorously. “Yes, they do. And they should. He’s – his figure is so imposing. Incredibly masculine. Like a – a great wolf.”

“Good god,” whispered Francis, and buried his face in both hands.

Christ, James adored seeing the  _ Terror  _ Captain blush and stutter like a schoolboy. In truth, he could watch Francis become shy and flustered till the end of days. And so he encouraged this line of discussion even further.

“James Ross always said he was the handsomest man on  _ Terror. _ ”

“He is. He was. You should’ve seen them in the Antarctic, when they danced together.” The flush on Jopson’s cheeks had extended past his collar, and his eyes shone bright as jewels. “Everyone talked of Miss Ross and how pretty she was, but all I saw was Francis. How elegant he was when he danced – the lines of his costume – the way the colors lit up his complexion. He smiled and laughed on that night more than almost any since. I had never seen a man look so beautiful.”

“Francis is well pleasing when he smiles. And even when he glares, mind you. I do like seeing him get all annoyed.”

Jopson actually laughed. “Yes, I can tell.”

“What else do you like about him?” James adopted a sort of gossipy tone, as if Francis were no longer in the room. “Think I also esteem that boiling Irish temper at times.”

_ “James.” _

Even this reprimand sounded more like a plea. Darting a look left, James watched the  _ Terror  _ Captain shift in his chair, in a way that meant the man was paralyzed by desire and frustration and indecision. So utterly tempting to see Francis provoked this way.

Jopson either was oblivious to his Captain’s condition, or so self-conscious that he did not recognize Francis’s reticence for what it was. “Oh, you have not even  _ seen  _ the extent of such Irish temper yet. James, when he’s truly commanding, every man stops to obey him without a second thought – like the night of the flogging. Fired his pistol into the air and ordered everyone down on their knees. Weathered men who’ve spent their whole lives on ships – who fear nothing and’ve been the worst sorts of villains – they all dropped to the ground at once, and went silent, awaiting even a whisper of further instructions. You’ve never seen a Captain project such strength and authority. Look here. I’ve got gooseflesh just talking about it.”

James inspected Jopson’s proffered wrist with a moue of excitement; the fellow was clearly excited by this picture. Time to ask the boldest question yet.

“Do you wish he might practice such authority on you?”

“Lord, yes. I mean – not in such a specific manner, obviously. I have never needed him to thunder at me for ignoring my duty, nor would I willingly do so, but – ”

“You desire his full attention.”

“Well, I just – ” Jopson glanced sideways, met Francis’s stunned, blown-wide gaze before turning back to James. “Erm. Occasionally, there’s a feeling I get in the evenings, when I attend to him. Some nights I accidentally touch bare skin when I’m divesting him of his clothes, or I move to – to get the pitcher and sponge after shaving him in the early hours, and I just – I feel his eyes on me wherever I go. He – he has such beautiful blue eyes, James. Arresting. And it – it’s hard to look away. Hard to breathe. Feels like he’s seen every bit of me there ever was. And he’ll keep it all tucked safe to his breast, right there in the lamplight, if only I was – brave enough to show him.”

James blew out a breath, trying to showcase how flustered this picture had made him.

“And I – he could see even more.” Jopson turned to Francis. “You could have me. You need only… ask.”

He was silent for a long moment, and glanced down at the table.

“Suppose that’s my desire, really. For you to – hold me. Wouldn’t have to do anything untoward. Nothing that would – impact either of you. Just seeing me as a man would be enough.” Jopson’s gaze slid to James. “And I’m not even asking that this be a condition of – I will still do any duty you require, even if the answer’s no. You have my word.”

“Thomas…” said Francis, very quiet.

“Don’t say anything yet.” Jopson let out a sigh, scrunched up his nose in a displeased way. “Eurgh. I know this is rather…”

But they did not get to hear the end of his sentence, as a loud  _ thunk!  _ and some rather vociferous swearing could be heard out in the corridor. James could already tell who it was from the footsteps alone, but the voice cemented it:

“Damned thing’s locked! Blast it all to hell and back. Why?”

Jopson had already got to his feet, but as they’d just had a rather trying conversation, James sprang into motion first, and crossed over to the door.

“Yes, may we help you, sir?” he asked in an arch voice as he opened it, pretending not to know why anyone would even knock at the Great Cabin at this hour, though it was barely past suppertime. 

Grumbling, Le Vesconte rubbed at his visibly-smarting nose, and brought his fingers down to his line of sight, where a tiny smear of red glazed them. His face was windburned and he had icicles in his whiskers. 

“Ugh. Got a bit of a nosebleed now, thank you very much.”

“Got a bit of a sailor’s mouth, is what you’ve got.” James gave him an expectant look, beckoned him inside. “I assume this is not merely a social call, then, Dundy?”

“Quite right. Goodsir needs a word. Urgent,” confirmed Henry, with a quick nod to Francis. “Captain Crozier. Mind if I steal an officer from your ship?”

“No, no,” said Francis, practically tossing maps and parchment rolls into a bundle, and gathering them all into his lap. Jopson had already risen from his seat and scuttled back to the brazier, where he pretended to flick some small bit of grit from the handle of the stove before scurrying out of the room. Presumably to fetch James’s slops. “We were, ah, just finished. Thank you, Captain Fitzjames.”

James buttoned his coat, gave Francis a nod, which came off just this side of roguish. “No trouble at all.”


	3. Chapter 3

Christ in heaven. 

Last few days had been little more than bloody torture. Weather had been so awful Goodsir had halted all travel between the two ships, so between being discovered by Thomas and now being kept apart, Francis had not lain with James in nearly a fortnight.

Worse, temptation remained everywhere in the form of one Thomas Jopson. Wherever Francis turned, he now saw an opportunity instead of mere attention to duty. If the lad reached up to grab an extra blanket from a high shelf, Francis was too busy watching his steward’s shirttails come untucked from his trousers to tell him such care wasn’t necessary. He could be polishing boots and Francis would begin to ponder the slickness of those nimble fingers along objects other than shoes.

He couldn’t get Thomas’s words out of his head, either. 

_ You could have me. You need only ask. _

But even Francis Crozier was not fool enough to put such kinship at risk. 

Over the span of their voyages, Jopson had become a loyal and dedicated companion – and a damn good steward – and Francis would never be able to live with himself if he did anything to crush the lad’s tender spirits in such a dark place.

Nor would he push James aside for something as ridiculous as a single tumble with a young sailor. Obviously his Second would not have brought up the topic again if it did not concern him in some way. If what had happened did not weigh on his mind. But all concerns aside, James did not deserve to be discarded on the whims of a boy, even one as understanding as Jopson. Francis would’ve rather jumped naked onto the ice than cause his lover any pain.

And he refused to hurt either one of them through sheer bloody carelessness.

Although Francis tried not to let on about his melancholy mood as he prepared for bed, Jopson clearly understood that he did not want conversation, and performed his duties as silently and efficiently as possible.

This cooperative spirit was soon broken up by the sudden stomp of boots at the outer door, followed by a gust of frigid wind as a tall, slops-covered figure swept into the room. 

Francis got up from his desk and the letter he had been writing to peer out at the greater cabin, and was stunned to find James clumsily pulling off his Welsh wig. His grey coat was soaked through, he had icicles in his hair, his movements were lethargic from cold, and his teeth chattered visibly.

“Jesus God!” Francis exclaimed. “What part of  _ forbidden  _ has  escaped your notice?”

Jopson, meanwhile, had already begun the preparations – he’d stoked up the brazier with the last of the allotted coal before dashing to Fitzjames’s side.

“Here, James. Come on.”

“Just – w’nted – t’walk,” was all James could eke out between full-bodied shivers, as Jopson helped him out of his slops, and draped the soaked garments over the boiler. 

As they peeled off his gloves and soaked wools, Francis saw the man’s fingers were paled from cold. Frostbite. 

At that point, he lost what little remained of his temper.

“You wanted to walk?” he repeated, scowling down at his Second. “WHERE? You absolute fucking  _ idiot,  _ it is forty below in the bergs at best – barely fit for any living creature in God’s kingdom, let alone a damned ship’s Captain out for a bloody Sunday stroll!”

“‘Tis – s - still – S - Saturday.” 

James managed a ghost of a smile, even as Jopson stripped him to his linens and wrapped him in two thick blankets, before directing him to the nearest chair.

“Sit here,” said the steward firmly, as Francis’s blood pressure rose to catastrophic levels. James could barely bloody walk to that chair, no matter how much he kept trying for good humour. “And don’t move. I’m going to get you a hot brandy.”

Francis was still seething. “I don’t bloody well care what day of the week it is, thank you very fucking much. I’ll not give a damn if it’s Easter bloody fucking Sunday, you great legless lurching buffoon! Don’t  _ ever  _ walk alone in weather like this, have you no brains in that enormous buggering melon you call a goddamned head?! I’ll not have my Second behave like such a – ”

“Er. Captain,” came a careful voice from behind him; Francis turned and saw Jopson returning with the brandy, and a drowsy, confused Little on his heels; the latter only in his boots and nightshirt, with his coat thrown hastily over all. 

Jesus fucking Christ. His shouting had roused half the fucking ship, probably.

“Edward,” he huffed by way of greeting, “please send a signal to  _ Erebus  _ that Captain Fitzjames has arrived, and will be staying here for the time being. Either until he is warmed through or until we deem it safe to travel again. Until then, LeVesconte has command of the bridge.”

“Aye, sir,” said Little, and departed. Jopson quickly closed the door behind him.

“Francis,” rasped James from his seat, still visibly shivering. He could not even take the cup from Jopson’s hands, he was so unsteady. “N - no need to fuss.”

“James, I’ll bloody fucking well fuss if it pleases me,” snapped Francis. “Now shut up and warm yourself, you absolute git.” He rubbed at his eyes, and absently noticed that his own hands were trembling. “Thomas. We, ah. Let’s get him – ”

“Yes,” said the steward.

Judging by the speed at which he moved, Jopson seemed to understand precisely what Francis wanted. Without another word, they worked together to help Fitzjames stagger to Francis’s berth so that he could lie beneath the covers. 

Quickly, Jopson closed this door, too.

“Keep an eye on those fingers and toes,” said Francis with a sigh as he yanked off his own jacket and tugged at his trouser buttons. “Wipe them in cold water first, then cool, then warm once they’re thawed.”

“Lucky we have plenty of cold water, then,” said Jopson dryly, as he went to the basin and poured in a bit of ice melt.

Francis laughed before he could help himself, then faltered, and bit the inside of his mouth to keep from saying something he oughtn’t. One wrong step and he could have lost James to nothing more than chance and carelessness. He could have lost everything.

“Got his hands and feet,” said Thomas, now perched in a chair at the edge of the bed with a damp rag in one hand. “Shall I get his face as well?”

“Do.” Francis found he could barely speak. “Then all – all of it again. Next half hour.”

He bit the inside of his cheek again, willed himself to keep strong, but his hands kept clenching into fists of their own accord. They could have found him frozen to death on the ice come sunrise. Within sight of both ships, all in the open.

“Captain,” came Thomas’s voice after several minutes, as he returned with a basin of vaguely-warm water.

Startled from his dark reveries, Francis turned, caught Jopson’s sympathetic gaze, and could no longer keep from voicing his most dreaded thought.

“He could’ve died out there. All for a walk.”

Jopson’s eyes flashed bright – a warning? a reprimand? – but he said nothing else as Francis continued speaking, putting voice to his worst fears.

“And I couldn’t’ve borne that, Thomas. I’ll not pretend that it – can’t imagine how we’d – ”

With a desperate, ragged breath, he crossed the space between them and pulled the steward into a fierce embrace, needing the young man’s steadying warmth and boundless affection more than he had possibly ever needed anything in his life.

“I’ve got you, Captain.” Thomas sounded overwhelmed, though he clung to Francis with all his might, as if they had embraced like this a thousand times before. After a moment, a tentative hand began carding through the fine hair at the back of his neck. “It's all right. We’ll see him through it together, you and I.”

When Francis pulled away, tremulous and shaky, he was met with a shy smile and a hint of a flush from Thomas. And that was when he realized he had his trousers unbuttoned and his shirt askew. It was a wonder he hadn’t frozen solid, himself.

“Shit. Sorry.” Stepping away, he quickly removed the offending garments and pulled on his nightshirt. “Still need to warm him.”

“It’s all right,” said Jopson again, as he took the proffered clothes and folded them in haste. Next, he grabbed another blanket, indicating that Francis should lie beneath the lot of them.

“Here. Chest-to-chest,” said Francis as he slid in, swearing as he touched James’s icy, sweating skin. “We’ll roll him left.”

Once they had done so, and James lay wrapped in Francis’s arms, shivering with his forehead pillowed against Francis’s right shoulder, Jopson finally covered them with the blanket, tucking the ends in around their feet and along James’s back with extensive care.

“I’ll be back in a little while,” was all he said, adjusting the lamp on the desk.

 

##

 

When James awoke, the first thing he realized was that he was not in his berth.

The wall looked essentially the same, right down to the wood grain, but the stout, searingly-warm body pressed against his – along with the soft snoring in his ear – left no room for doubt. He was on  _ Terror. _

As he roused further, and realized that his hands and feet were smarting from the cold, the day’s events began coming back to him in bits and pieces. Arguing with Henry over bloody sickbay inventories, of all things. Demanding Goodsir lift the ban and being coldly refused. Snapping at Bridgens when the steward refused to ready him for a walk to  _ Terror  _ shortly afterward. Stomping through the bergs alone with one dim lantern, half-frozen and shivering.

With a soft noise in the back of his throat, he tried to disentangle himself from Francis – who currently had one arm beneath his neck and the other flung over his hip – without waking the man, but it was too late. 

The movement prompted a sleepy murmur. “James?”

“Nice day for a lie-in,” was all James said, as Francis extricated first one hand and then the other with a mumble of confusion. The Irishman’s face was charmingly pink and he had pillow creases impressed along one craggy cheek.

“Says you.” A sigh; Francis squinted out toward the desk. “Wh’ time is it?”

“No idea.” With a grunt, James pushed himself up onto an elbow, brought his other arm out from beneath the frozen covers. Inspecting his hand in the dim light, he was satisfied to note that although his fingers were still very red, there were only three clear blisters: one on the back of his palm where his knuckles met the hand, one on the top of his thumb, just below the nail bed, and one on his smallest finger. It had been a very mild frostbite, then.

Sitting up, and tucking part of the blankets around the suddenly-frigid space he had just vacated, Francis eyed this hand with no small amount of irritance.

“Are you warmed through at last?”

“Well enough,” answered James. His palms itched terribly, and his feet throbbed from the sting, but that would likely continue for a few days yet.

“Good. Then I can freely call you an idiot.”

The door creaked open; James glanced up in alarm before he saw the corner of the tray emerge, then the full tray, then Jopson, who gave him a relieved look before addressing Francis.

“Don’t think we should be calling anyone anything, sir.”

He put down the tray and turned back to James. This was when James realized it not only carried the metal tea service, but also contained several medical implements, including a bottle of iodine and several rolls of bandages.

“Here. Let me see your hands.”

Shocked, James made no argument. Within a few minutes, he was sitting propped against the wall, soaking his reddened hands in a steaming water and Lugol’s iodine solution, with the basin covered by a cheesecloth. 

Although the pain was minor and bearable, Jopson had also brought some morphia to take. Clearly he’d been prepared for anything.

Sitting at the foot of the bed, under the coverlet with his legs tucked under him, Francis looked very smug. Difficult to do when he was still clad in his nightshirt with an extra blanket wrapped around his upper body, and yet he managed completely.

“You’ll put Goodsir and Bridgens out of business soon.”

“No, I don’t think so,” Jopson said wryly, and cast James a knowing look. “I just know where useful things are kept is all.”

“Lucky for me,” said James with a smile. “Thank you for your kindness.”

Francis was less effusive, though clearly worried about the practicalities. “Will you at least sit down?”

“All right.” The steward made a point of dragging his chair over to the foot of the bed. “Sitting down now.”

“You needn’t worry, Jopson. I’ve only got three blisters on my fingers, and they’re all clear.” James went to lift his hands from the debriding solution to prove it, but was stopped by a bullish glare from Francis, and so he did not.

“Technically, you’ve also got several on your toes,” corrected the steward, with a glance at James’s feet, which were still bare beneath the mountain of frozen blankets.

“And why you thought it was a good idea to walk all the way over here in the midst of a blasted  _ piteraq,  _ I’ve no goddamned idea.”

Embarrassed at his folly, James glanced away at the desk before he met Francis’s scowl head-on. “Well. I did miss you, if you must know.”

“Don’t be silly.” The scowl had already dimmed, replaced by a heated flush. “You could’ve come over in a day or so, James.”

“Obviously, he wanted to see you sooner than that,” Jopson said mildly – which was clearly his way of upbraiding Francis, and which worked so damn well it startled the Irishman into full silence.

“Thank you, Thomas.” James gave the steward a grateful look. “You’ll stay for a little while yet, won’t you? Only I may need a third party to protect me from such dreaded Irish temper.”

“I’m bloody helping you warm up,” grumbled Francis from the corner.

“Yes, and you’re doing beautifully.” James pushed his feet against Francis’s calves in response, earning a yelp and then another fierce glare.

Jopson’s smile now stretched from ear-to-ear. “Well, I, ah, suppose I could stay a few minutes more. If that’s all right.”

“It,” declared James, “is a capital idea.”


	4. Chapter 4

By the time James had finished soaking his hands, Francis had dutifully helped Thomas apply a few drops of silver nitrate as well as a generous coat of salve to both frostnipped feet. Then, they’d covered the lot with a fresh pair of socks and done the same to his hands, subtracting the socks in favor of binding them in a thin layer of bandages, and covering all of this with Francis’s fingerless mittens.

“Yours are still wet,” was all Francis said as he handed them over.

Suited James just fine. They smelled like Francis’s soap anyway, so he was glad to have them.

“We’ll have Doctor Goodsir take a look at everything in the morning, or whenever  _ Erebus  _ feels they can spare him.” Francis let out a sigh, glanced over at Jopson. “Get yourself something to drink, if you like.”

“Oh. I, ah, didn’t make much coffee.” Thomas seemed alarmed at the prospect of taking any from the pot. “But I could, ah – ”

“You can have my brandy,” James interrupted.

“Are you – certain?”

“Quite.” James gestured to the empty mug sitting beside the tray. “I’ve had my tea, I’ve listened to Francis berate me about my own stupidity for almost a quarter of an hour – ”

“You stubborn ass.”

“ – and I have had two winning gentlemen attend to my frostnipped hands and feet. So I would say you have not only earned a good quaff of brandy tonight, but perhaps a bottle of the finest Monnet whence we return.”

“Thank you, James.” 

Jopson’s sincerity as he went to retrieve the brandy was, frankly, adorable.

“I shall mention it to the Admiralty posthaste,” deadpanned Francis.

This was, in James’s opinion, equally adorable, but for entirely different reasons. 

As Francis settled back into his nest of blankets, sitting propped up against the wall, and Jopson came to stand next to the foot of the bed, a snifter of brandy now held delicately between finger and thumb, James decided he was quite content.

And then, inexplicably, Jopson lifted the glass to his mouth and downed the contents in a single swallow.

“Er,” was all Francis said as he met James’s amused gaze.

Jopson wiped his mouth with the pad of his thumb. “What?”

“You’re, ah – it’s a bit unorthodox.” Francis seemed not to know where to look as Jopson set the empty glass back onto the desk. “Drinking it all in one go.”

“Is that not… I thought you were supposed to drink it like whiskey? Aren’t you?” 

Understanding dawned on Francis’s face, and he let out a small, rueful laugh. “Far as I’m aware. But most men don’t drink whiskey the way I – well. Did.”

“Oh,” said Jopson, quiet. “Sorry. I didn’t think about that.”

“It’s traditionally a sipping liquor,” added James. “To be consumed over a half hour or more. But you needn’t apologize. Next time you’re called to drink it in front of the wardroom, you’ll be a veritable natural.”

Jopson let out a sigh of relief, and sagged forward in his chair, letting his hands dangle past his knees for a moment. “Not sure I’ll ever be having a drink in any wardroom. But it’s nice to know I’ll not embarrass myself, I suppose.”

“You could have that, if you wanted,” James reminded him with a raised eyebrow.

“No.” Jopson lifted his head, gave James a soft, resigned sort of smile. Oddly enough, it was very similar to the grimace Francis wore when he did not know what to say next. “And you don’t have to worry about me getting a fair shake, if you must know. Captain’s already given me my gift.”

Francis startled visibly, brow furrowing in surprise. “What?”

Fascinating. James made a show of settling back into his pillows and steepling his mittened hands across his chest. Tragically, neither of them seemed to glimpse this dramatic gesture, nor see the humour in it, and kept right on talking.

“Well, yes. You – just before, when you – embraced me.”

“Thomas, I – ” Francis was blushing again. “That wasn’t a – it was affectionate, I grant you. Perhaps even brotherly, but it wasn’t – what you wanted.”

“It was,” insisted Thomas. His blue eyes kept darting back and forth in an anxious manner. “Francis, I promise it was.”

“No, because there wasn’t – you asked for an embrace, for god’s sake.  _ That _ wasn’t a true embrace! I – This – ”

With a growl of frustration, Francis leaned forward without another word, pulled Jopson in by his waistcoat lapels, and fastened his mouth to the young steward’s in a heady, passionate kiss. At first, Thomas went very still, like a spooked doe pausing at the edge of a copse of trees, and then melted into the caress, whimpering wordlessly against Francis’s mouth. 

Francis, for his part, seemed equally affected, hands scrabbling to pull Thomas closer, groaning as his steward laid two tentative hands on his broad chest.

And then they broke apart, red-cheeked, wild-eyed, and breathless.

When Francis finally looked over at James, shock darkening his blue eyes, James gave him a wicked smirk.

“Don’t stop on my account.”

“Oh,” breathed Thomas in a squeak – and that was it, Francis’s head snapped back to stare at him, and suddenly they were kissing again, Thomas scrambling down into Francis’s lap as Francis got a hand against the lad’s buttons, rubbing and squeezing and playing with the obvious bulge that had now appeared in Jopson’s trousers.

Thomas was already writhing against that knowing hand, biting his lip to stay quiet. Judging by the way his hips bucked and his breath stuttered in his throat, it wouldn’t be long – and sure enough, suddenly he gasped, shuddered, and pitched forward against Francis’s shoulder, sobbing out little noises of encouragement and grasping Francis’s hand in his. Several seconds later, he rightened himself, bracing his other hand against the rail.

“‘S all right. Oh, god. Oh, thank god. ‘M still hard. Only a little one.”

Francis gawped at his steward like the man had just told him they’d located the Passage.

“You’re still – how the  _ hell _ can you – ”

Undoing his trousers and linens, and shucking them down past his knees, Jopson palmed the length of his now-bare cock in one hand, sighing in relief as it twitched full against his fingers. Then, and only then, did he look back up at Francis through bashful lowered lashes.

“See?”

The  _ Terror  _ Captain’s surprise had already turned to soft mirth. He took in Thomas’s bare form with eager eyes, palmed the man’s hip and the lean plane of his stomach with one gentle hand, and then cast a knowing look back at James.

“Twenty.” Shaking his head in deadpan disbelief, Francis raised a mischievous eyebrow. His other hand twitched longingly down toward the tails of his nightshirt. “Jesus fucking Christ, Tommy. You’ll put us both to shame.”

Thomas flushed with obvious pride. 

James just laughed. Although he was tired, this erotic display had already worked quite the effect on his own body. Despite the discomfort in his hands and feet, his cock lengthened and filled as Jopson undressed further, shucking off his linens and trousers first, then his waistcoat.

By the time the steward finished undressing, he was clad only in his shirttails, bare from the waist down, and desire must have been writ all over James’s face. Jopson only had to take one look at him before he bit his lip, and crawled up the bed.

“We’re neglecting you, sorry.” 

And he dipped his head down to kiss James, shy and quiet, till James made a groaning noise in the back of his throat.

Then, he pulled back, eyes soft with concern. “Are you all right?”

James ran a mittened hand down Tommy’s lithe, lean back, cursing his own clumsiness. “Wish I could use my hands. Bring you off that way.”

“Don’t be sorry.” Pushing a strand of hair back from James’s face and behind his ear, Tommy pursed his lips in thought before impish delight lit up his face. “What if I rode you?”

Behind him, Francis sucked in a sharp breath.

Thomas’s voice did not change, although a flash of delight lit up his face as he turned back to Francis. “Don’t worry, Captain. I have an idea.”

Mouth falling open, Francis blushed a fierce red, and could not speak.

Smiling, James ran his forearm up Tommy’s strong thigh before giving the lad a wink. “Think that means he’s all ears.”

Straightening up and stretching a little, Thomas moved left, hopped down from the bunk using the rail as a balance, and opened the first drawer nearest the wall.

Francis looked as if he was going to say something, but when Tommy pulled a small tin of petroleum jelly out of the back, he went red and mute again.

“Ah. Right.”

With an embarrassed smile, Tommy returned to the bed. Deftly, he removed the tin lid, dipped three fingers in, and sought out James’s cock beneath the nightshirt. He only touched enough to tease before hopping back up onto the bed on his knees, turning to face Francis, and straddling James’s thighs.

_ “Fucking hell,”  _ was all Francis could hiss, still kneeling next to James’s feet.

“Oh, no, I haven’t even got to the best part yet,” said Jopson as he inched backwards, and James could finally align his slick cock between those gorgeous round cheeks. “Here, ah. Stay where you are and I’ll – ”

Experimentally, he ground down against James’s cock, causing a gasp to escape from James’s throat. Once he did this, he shifted his weight to his left knee, stretched out his right leg till he sat in a sort of half-split astride James’ hips, and leaned forward.

As Tommy shifted his weight forward, he reached out with a hand, grasped Francis by the waist, and dipped his head.

Francis had finally seemed to realize what was happening. Moving forward on his knees so Jopson didn’t have to stretch his neck, he made a sort of strangled sound the moment Tommy’s mouth closed around the head of his cock.

They remained like this for a minute at least: James admiring the delightful view as he lazily rolled his hips up in search of better purchase, Tommy moaning around Francis’s girth, and Francis breathing very deeply with his eyes squeezed shut, one hand braced against the wall and the other cupping Jopson’s apple cheek.

“Jesus God, lad, I – I’ll not fucking last like this.”

Jopson made a satisfied noise that caused Francis to shudder with delight, and thrust forward, once. 

The momentum pushed the steward’s hips backward into James, so that James’s cock fit perfectly between his cheeks, with the head just rubbing the cleft of Jopson’s ass.

They set a pace, then, slow and lazy. 

James stayed quiet, for once, just sighed and hummed in the back of his throat in pleasure while Jopson groaned like an adolescent – and it was all punctuated by the filthiest stream of invective James had ever heard in all his life, raspy and unending, as Francis’s hard-won control fell utterly to pieces. 

“Mouth red and wet and hot as a fucking Fraser stove, stretched full of my cock, bleeding  _ Christ,  _ Tommy, the sight of you, you’d make God himself spurt clear across the heavens, oh, Jesus, Mary and Joseph’s blue goddamned buggering balls, that’s good, don’t ever bloody fucking stop, don’t you dare bloody stop till I can paint that perfect cupid’s bow – ”

Tommy squeaked, and rocked backwards into James, hips grinding desperately. James felt a slick patch forming at the head of his prick.

“Jesus fuck, James, look at him bucking against your cock, imagine how tight he feels inside –  _ God’s gorgeous dripping prick –  _ I’d never’ve made you wait if I knew it’d be like this, I’d’ve fucked you arseways and sideways and six ways from Sunday bloody Sunday before Divine Service and Sir John fucking Franklin himself if I’d known y’wanted it so – oh, Tommy, ‘m close, fuckin’ hell, Tommy boy, y’beautiful silver-tongued fae of a – of a –  _ Christ  _ shit and f –  _ fuck! _ ”

Voice breaking, smothering moans against his palm, Francis thrust forward, now gripping Jopson by the ear, and spent inside his mouth: Tommy shuddering and spluttering around his full girth all the while before Francis pulled back and slumped sideways against the wall, panting hard.

“‘M – I didn’t mean to – ”

“‘S all right.” Jopson coughed, cleared his throat a few times, and sat up very gingerly. “Lord. Think I came again just from you talking.”

His beautiful belly still gleamed clean under the pale lamplight; James glanced him up and down with envious eyes. Gently, he motioned that Tommy should lay backwards, between his legs, so his back was pressed to James’s front.

“Stamina of a damn sire,” James remarked as he saw the state of Jopson’s cock; still hard and dripping. “Can’t believe you’ve been keeping this all to yourself.”

Tommy just giggled in a breathless way as he settled against James’s chest. “Well, now you know, I s’pose.”

Meanwhile, Francis had got up from the bed to get a glass of water. First, he gave this to Tommy, who drank very deeply, then offered the glass to James.

James made a face. “None for me.”

“Suit yourself.” Francis drained the glass, set it back on the table, and picked up his discarded blanket, wrapping it around his body like a widow’s shawl as he got back down on the berth. Jopson had to draw his legs up and place the soles of his feet somewhere near James’s knees in order for a third person to fit on the now-very crowded berth.

James could already see the wheels turning in Francis’s mind. Although he moved slowly, and seemed relaxed enough to drop off if given the chance to relax, there was a glint in his eyes that James recognized purely from experience. 

It meant the  _ Terror  _ Captain was feeling rather bold.

“Tommy,” he murmured first, which coaxed out a gasp and a slight tension in Jopson’s otherwise laconic frame. “You like bringing a man off with your mouth?”

“I – yes, sir. Obviously.”

Francis arched an eyebrow. This made Jopson’s eyes widen, in fright or in anticipation, James could not yet tell.

“They – the others’ve always liked it – ”

“I’m sure any others were very pleased by it,” Francis continued, pulling the blanket down with him as he lowered himself onto his stomach, and crawled up the bunk on his elbows. He had to crook his legs at the knees so that his bare calves and sock feet bobbled in the air, like a schoolgirl caught by the river in a lunchtime reverie. James could not keep the grin from his face at the sight. “But they couldn’t possibly be as pleased as I am now, hm?”

“Oh,” whispered Tommy through a harsh breath.

“Do you know what I like to do when someone’s pleased me?” asked Francis as he settled down between their legs; James’s were spread flat against the bunk, his toes nearly touching the rail and the wall. By contrast, Jopson’s legs splayed wantonly open, and his soles were braced firmly against the mattress.

“Erm. You – you – say a nice thing. Or, or you give – rewards.”

“Indeed.” Francis’s serious, very studied manner gave way to a brilliant gap-toothed smile, and he brought up one hand to trace the hard muscles of Tommy’s defined stomach. “Which do you think you have earned, Tommy?”

“I – I daren’t ask.”

“But you already know,” murmured James with a low chuckle. His mouth nearly brushed Jopson’s right ear. “Just look at that grin.”

The steward let out a soft moan as Francis, still smiling, ran his palm up Jopson’s stomach and along his chest.

“What kinds of rewards have I given before, hm?”

“You – you bought Edward a pastry, once. In Plymouth. Cause he’d caught that thing with the – ” Tommy gasped again as Francis’s thumb brushed over a nipple, teasing it until it furled hard under this gentle caress. “Sails.”

“‘S true.” That grin was back on Francis’s face. “He’s got a bit of a sweet tooth.”

“And – and you gave Blanky half your tobacco, down south.”

“Aye,” said Francis, and began to trace his hand downward, stopping to tease a path around Tommy’s navel. “Weevils got to his pack. Never heard the bloody end of it.”

Casting a knowing look up at James, who could picture this scene as easily as if he’d been present for witness every one of Blanky’s vociferous complaints.

“And you – you once – nnh! Oh, please touch me.”

“Hm?” Francis’s smirk widened. “Please what?”

“I’ll go mad. I need – ”

“How long has it been,” asked Francis, conversationally, “since someone’s put their mouth on  _ your _ cock, hm?”

Tommy shivered visibly, his blue eyes widening in understanding.  _ “Oh.” _

“Too long, I’d wager.” Francis bent his head and pressed a soft kiss to the fine trail of hair that began under Jopson’s navel. “Far too long.”

“Oh, my god.”

“Means you’ll feel it all the better,” said James, smiling against Tommy’s hair.

Slowly, Francis trailed kisses down Tommy’s stomach, letting his mouth linger hot and open across taut bare skin. The sound of each kiss echoed throughout the room, like little drops of water from an icicle speckling the ground.

Tommy had gone rigid, now, his cock twitching up toward his stomach. “Captain.”

Francis mouthed his way over to the crease of Jopson’s thigh, causing Tommy to arch and moan again.

“Please, sir.”

“Hm,” Francis sighed, and caressed the top of Jopson’s leg with a hand. “I do like hearing you say that.”

“Please, sir. Please, sir.” Tommy squeaked and bucked as Francis’s mouth finally closed around the tip of his cock, jerking in James’s arms. “Nnh!”

“That’s it, pet.” James nuzzled into his soft short hair, brought Tommy’s shaking hands up to rest against a pale chest. “Your Captain wants you to feel good. Let him have you.”

Francis made a noise of approval as he bobbed lower, took Tommy in all the way to the root. Jopson’s breath hitched in the back of his throat, and he squirmed against James’s body as Francis slowly began to bob up and down.

“How beautiful he looks like this,” James whispered, dragging his mittened hands up and down Jopson’s forearms. The steward’s head tipped back against James’s shoulder, and his eyes fell closed. “Ah, ah. Look at your Captain, dear boy. Mustn’t close our eyes.”

“‘S – so –” Jopson was already trembling, his thighs trying to bracket Francis’s ears. “James, it – ”

“Tell him how good it feels, hm?”

Francis groaned in appreciation around Tommy’s cock, Jopson gasped and thrust against the vibrations this must have produced, necessitating James to slide one forearm down the lad’s stomach, to hold him in place as Francis moved up and down, slightly faster.

“I can’t,” Jopson whimpered, just reached for Francis’s hand, grasped his fingers hard. “Oh, Captain –  _ more _ – ”

Francis moaned around him again, and his hips squirmed against the mattress.

“Use your other hand, love,” James encouraged the  _ Terror  _ Captain, sliding the tin of grease as far down the bed as he could, given his limited range of motion. “The way I’d do.” 

He petted Jopson’s stomach with his swollen, mittened hands in an attempt to tease. Although it was no substitute for feeling smooth skin against his palms or enjoying the sinewy pull of muscles twitching up under his fingertips, it seemed to distract Tommy to no end while Francis moved away and slicked up two fingers.

With great care, and possibly in order to draw out the anticipation, Francis readied Tommy’s entrance and finally slid the first digit inside, provoking a staccato intake of breath. Tommy’s hips jerked up and his legs flailed desperately for purchase – and then Francis bent his head again, took the lad in all the way to the root.

_ “Mmph!” _

“That’s it, Tommy.” James used his elbow to brace Jopson’s thigh in position, while rubbing one mittened hand up and down the lad’s lean body. “Feel how much that man wants you, hm?”

Jopson whimpered in wordless delight.

“Captain wants to reward and please you, just as you please him. You’re such a good boy, Tommy. You’re so pretty and lovely and he likes you so very much.”

Jopson was shuddering violently now, his mouth working in soundless cries as his head kept tipping back against James’s shoulder.

“Thinks you’re special and good, his sweet kind Tommy, devoted and dear and – ”

Francis increased the pace, causing Jopson to yelp. James hissed as a frisson of delight traveled down his spine. 

“Yes,” Jopson keened softly with every thrust of Francis’s fingers. “Yes, yes, yes – ah – ”

“Shh, sweet boy,” James brushed a slow path up the side of Tommy’s neck, ghosting his curled fingers just below that trembling bottom lip. When he saw how Francis had begun to rut against the bed as he worked Tommy over, he found he could hardly speak. “There. Like that.”

The friction of Tommy’s body moving against his own was delicious; James submitted to it totally, pulled him closer so he could match that frantic rhythm.

Panting, Tommy lolled his head to one side, just where James’s bicep met his shoulder, and pressed his open mouth to the junction of muscle here, breath fogging hot and fast against damp cotton and skin.

Without warning, Francis pulled off, his mouth caressing the head of Jopson’s cock as his fingers drove home, and suddenly Tommy was digging his teeth into James’ shoulder as he came – spasming, jerking, body locked taut – muffling a series of choked cries.

James followed soon after, lost to the pleasant haze of bliss.

When James returned to himself, Francis was already moving; still clad only in his socks and nightshirt, he had fetched the basin and a cloth, and was tenderly swiping the clean cloth along the stripes that painted Tommy’s stomach, then down the lad’s softening cock, then between his damp thighs. 

Tommy lay pliant and soft in James’s arms all the while, legs splayed awkwardly open and his arms hanging limply at his sides. Long dark lashes swept a tender path against his flushed round cheeks. He appeared to be merely sleeping.

“You all right?” Francis asked, as their eyes met. He squeezed James’s bicep in a tender way as he walked up to the head of the bed.

“Didn’t lose me as well, hm?” James asked through a laugh.

“No. Thought you’d just drop off after, to be honest. Long night for you.”

“Hmph.” James glanced down at the unconscious man in his arms. “Well. Whenever this one wakes up, you can boast about your prowess to your heart’s content.”

“I never boast,” said Francis through a chuckle, as he dropped a kiss first to Tommy’s forehead, and then to James’s cheek. “But thank you.”

Clearly, this was not just about the boasting, as Francis was rarely tender this way without a reason. Considering how fraught the entire endeavor had been, it had been a very fortuitous outcome for all parties involved.

“Give us a kiss, then,” said James, sleepy and pliant; Francis obliged. 

Just as Francis pulled back, Tommy sighed, and began to stir.

“Oh. C – Captain? Did I – my goodness – ”

“You’re all right, Tommy.” Francis put a hand on the lad’s shoulder. “Just waking up is all. Take your time.”

“I fainted,” Tommy said after several seconds, and glanced up at Fitzjames as if for confirmation. “Right?”

“Yes.”

_ “Good god.” _

“Yes,” agreed James with a groan.

“And are – are you all right, James? Should I get up?”

“Not if you don’t want to,” said Francis from the corner. 

As Tommy glanced over, Francis gave them a soft, shy smile in return; the one that often made James’s breath catch in his throat. When the  _ Terror  _ Captain stepped forward, he placed a gentle palm against Tommy’s chest, and one against James’s shoulder, as if to press both of them backwards into the bed. “Rest for a moment, hm? Let yourself relax.”

“Do. You were splendid,” James added, and kissed Tommy’s ear.

Beaming up at them, Tommy’s eyes shone like the stars.

 

##

 

It was not until the next evening, once Goodsir arrived on  _ Terror, _ grudgingly admitted James was fine, and allowed him to return to  _ Erebus,  _ that James saw his own steward again. 

He was so used to Bridgens’ cheerful and conversational approach to duty that he did not think to warn the man about additional scrapes and bruises. So it was not until Bridgens had divested James of his waistcoat and shirt, and spotted the visible teeth marks on his upper bicep, as well as a few tiny but rather telling bruises around his pubis, that the old man fell silent. He gave James a very disappointed look.

“All right. Go ahead,” sighed James. He motioned for the steward to get on with the lecture. “Let me have it, then.”

“Captain,” said Bridgens as he crossed back to the basin, a warning note coloring his words, “you must always be careful, even here.”

James nodded in assent, unable to argue. “I know.”

“The men love you. And although any friendship with your First is admirable, being reckless with such goodwill would cause them great distress.”

“You’re right.” James answered, as Bridgens helped him into a clean nightshirt. “Though to be fair,  _ Terror  _ is quieter than  _ Erebus.” _

“There is still danger around every corner.” Bridgens gave him an unamused look. “Mister Jopson is very attentive in his duties, and very young for a steward. He might not understand that you and Captain Crozier are entitled to further privacy, as befits your station.”

“Oh, come now. Jopson may be young, but he isn’t a monk. I am certain of that much.”

“You could be seen,” said Bridgens very pointedly.

It was sound advice, if rather dour. Normally, being witnessed by a third party would mean scandal. Dishonour. A criminal trial. On any other ship, it could even mean being disrated or hanged. Given that one of their number had already been publicly lashed for  _ dirtiness,  _ it was not entirely foolish for Bridgens to imagine someone else could be made an example for the remaining men.

“That would be terrible,” James replied lightly.

Bridgens did not even crack a smile. “Promise me you’ll not be so reckless again, sir.”

Sighing a second time, James regarded the man with a full, clear gaze as he prepared to make this promise. 

For all his time at sea, and through what must have been a very strange romantic history, John Bridgens was still remarkably cautious. As if a perceptive person could not tell why  _ Terror’s  _ Captain of the Foretop had been one of the first to come berth on this ship. Or why Peglar was always borrowing John’s books, taking him on long walks across the ice, and talking together with positively boundless delight. Was such an obvious preference for Bridgens’ company not also reckless? Were clandestine displays of affection not also worth these risks and more?

James, for his part, did not believe Jopson would ever let a word of their indiscretions slip past his lips, particularly now that the lad had been well bedded by his beloved Captain.

And as for others….he cared less for their judgment with each passing day.  Which man in this company could possibly prioritize esoteric moralizing, or a topic so banal as mere predilections, over leaving this wasteland alive with their minds and their bodies intact?

Instead of voicing these unanswerable musings, James merely ducked his head, and let such petty thoughts vanish into the air. He thought of Francis, and Tommy, and of the precious golden hours they three had spent together. 

“Dear Bridgens, you are most wise for a man of only six and twenty. Perhaps I should enlist your counsel more often.”

Bridgens smiled at this joke, though rather begrudgingly.

“And if you are so uncommonly thoughtful at this impressionable age, I marvel at the power seven and twenty will soon bring.”

“A limp and a walking stick, if we are very fortunate,” said Bridgens drily, though the sigh he let out perhaps told his real feelings on the matter. “Don’t remind me, sir.”

Grinning as his steward went to fetch a scrap of soap from the outer room, James left it at that.


End file.
